[𝙳𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝]

Last Login:
February 17th, 2020

Gender: Female
Status: In a relationship
Age: 27
Country: United States

Signup Date:
August 14, 2018



02/23/2019 06:58 PM 

Sentimentality: A Drabble

attention: | mentions: Sentimentalitywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Stephanie Brown had long lost touch of her high school friends.
They were the kids for the wrong side of the tracks, the ’alternative, punk scene losers’, the ’bad influences’.
They were just misunderstood. They never did anything too bad.
But Batgirl had kept an eye on them. Kept them safe.
If they started walking down the wrong path, towards the gangs and violence, Batgirl would spook them straight.
Well, straight enough.
She even kept the hangouts clear of gang activity.
The Bat may have caught on to her little act of sentimentality some time back, but had yet to say a word about it, likely because she hadn't reinserted herself into their lives.
Stephanie wasn't even sure she still even had their numbers in her phone.
Tonight, on patrol, she swung by, just to check in on them.
It was lucky she did.
She saw some old faces trying to cause trouble.
The Sprang Bridge Soldiers were trying to expand territory, pushing people around, including some of the people she once called friends.
The last time she saw them was a few years ago, when she was Spoiler, and took them down with Tim, when he was Robin. Normally she'd scope them out a bit more, wait to strike, but she vaguely remembered them being pushovers.
So she struck.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Swooping in with a double barrel drop kick to the back of the leader, she wiped them out swiftly. A lot faster than she expected, really. Quick kicks, sharp strikes. Taking them down, she restrained them with zipties.
Looking up, she had noticed the ’alternative, punk scene losers’ had scattered, knowing the GCPD would be on the way.
Repositioning to an overlooking rooftop, she waited for the Sprang Bridge Soldiers kids to get picked up.
Then waited for the scattered kids to return. Relocating, she drew her binoculars to just check them, when she noticed it, on the back wall, beneath the overpass.
Among the graffiti, was a mural of a blonde haired, purple wearing Batgirl, swooping in to save them.
Lowering the binoculars, she wipes her face. A bug must have flown into her eye.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

02/02/2019 10:09 PM 

The Kid Got Cocky: Drabble

attention: | mentions: The Kid Got Cockywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
She got cocky.
She'd love to say it wouldn't happen again, but that would be a dirty lie.
She would definitely get caught out like that again, and it would absolutely be her own fault, again, as it always was.
She owned it, at least.
At least Bruce was out of town, so she would be spared the lecture, this time.
Dragging herself to the Ricochet, slowly slumping into position, she activated the recall protocol, with her left eye already swelling shut under the cowl, vaguely aware of herself muttering through the comms

“Alfred, I'm gonna need a hand getting to the medbay…”

Before slumping backwards in her seat.
The next thing Stephanie remembered, Alfred was talking to her, as he was half dragging her across the Batcave from where the Ricochet is programmed to return to, to the medbay.

“-this time, Miss Stephanie.”

Blinking, or more accurately, winking, with her left eye swollen completely shut at this point, she turned her head gingerly to him, trying to take her weight off him and take steps on her own.

“I missed most of that, Al, I'm sorry.. what?”

Her words were slow, sluggish. She frowned at herself, suspecting a concussion, reaching a hand up to drag the cowl from her head.

“I said, what sort of shenanigans did you find yourself mixed up in this time.”

Alfred repeated calmly, Stephanie clearly not the first bat to need this treatment, easing her onto the ready and waiting clinical bed, in the medbay, Stephanie chuckling absently.

“I love that word… Shenanigans...

“I'm well aware, that's why I used it. I gathered it would get a response from you. Now that I have your attention, what happened.”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Typically, Stephanie wasn't fond of rehashing screw ups, but Alfred wasn't about to judge or lecture her, simply work out where he needed to examine. Sitting back and sitting down her cowl next to her, pointing to her face, as the Swiss Army Knife of a man they almost insultingly called a butler pulled on a set of surgical gloves.

“I found the Steel Unicorns trying to get a foothold back in Chinatown. Before the Ghost Dragons caught wind of them again I hit them. Full Bat routine. There was one problem… You know how I like to run my mouth..?”

Her voice rises as she trails off, a sure fire tell that she knows she was in the wrong, Alfred's lips pursing slightly in an unimpressed, disapproving manner, yet saying nothing as he shifts a stand light into a better position to examine the swelling, lightly prodding as Steph winces, but continues.

“I asked them how they liked it being run outta town by the little blonde one, not even one of the good, important bats or birds, and next thing I know, everyone is swinging table legs, and chairs, baseball bats, and god only knows what else at me. The good news is they all look worse than I do. And I did remember to call it in before I got in the bike. Dunno whether dispatch took the call serious or not… am I babbling? I feel like I'm babbling…”

She scowls at herself, or at least, as best as she can, with half her face swollen now, Alfred shifting his eyes from the swelling to her open eye for a moment, offering a small smile.

“Just a tad, Miss Stephanie, but it's better than you being unconscious on us again with a concussion. Congratulations, your first of the year.”

Pantomiming throwing confetti from her belt, Steph groaned, and let out a slow sigh.

“Yay me! I’m gonna need a better cowl… can we get Lucius to work on that?”

“Perhaps work on not getting hit in the head so often in the meantime, Miss Stephanie, however, I'm sure it can be arranged. You don’t appear to have a fractured orbital bone, just quite a bit of swelling. How are your ribs?”

She hadn't even noticed she had been hunched over the entire time. Slowly sitting up straight, she hissed slowly, as Alfred watched like a hawk.
After a few moments, and a battery of tests, it was concluded that the blonde was lucky, this time, only ending up with bumps, bruises, and her concussion.

“Alright. You are free to go. Perhaps consider taking a night or two off while recovering with the concussion…”

Turning away as he snaps the gloves off, Stephanie snorts a half laugh, slowly getting to her feet.

“It doesn't work on him, it won't work on me. Nice try, Al…”

“Perhaps not. But I'm sure you'll rest up if you don't want Master Bruce finding out about your tests.”

Narrowing her eye, Stephanie walked past, lightly jabbing a finger into Alfred's side, a half smirk on her lips.

“Blackmail? I approve, Alfie… you win this round…”

If she didn't know better, she would have sworn Alfred was also smirking, as she left the cave for the manor above.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

01/20/2019 11:52 PM 

Nocturne: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Nocturnewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
It had been calling to her for weeks. No. Months now.
The blasted ivory toothed menace, sitting untouched, in one of the ballrooms.
Stephanie wasn't sure why it was even still there, she didn't think anyone knew how to play, then again, the Wayne's knew how to do everything, so wouldn't surprise her if Bruce could play the piano.
Slowly peeking her head around the doorframe, as if on some secret mission, spotting the coast was clear, she made her way over to the grand piano, lightly running her fingertips across the tops of the keys.
It was immaculate, of course, as everything in the manor was, Alfred wouldn't have it any other way, almost too good, too beautiful for someone like her to be touching.
Peering into the housing, the lid raised, looking at the strings, she wondered when the last time such a thing had been tuned could have been, and lightly pressed down on a key.
The note hung in the air as she held it down, a small smile crawling across her lips, as she learned it was turned perfectly, as she had hoped.
Why wouldn't it be?
Dropping herself onto the bench, stretching her arms up above her head and cracking her fingers, Stephanie began to play.
At first, she ran through slow scales, feeling the difference between the grand piano, and the uprights she had learnt to play on, before stalling, glancing out the window to the grounds of the estate, for something she could remember how to play.
Something more than just some scales, or basic nursery rhymes. She wasn't about to go try looking for sheet music, because she couldn't remember how to read that for the life of her, but the muscle memory was there.
If she could get it started.
"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
After sitting, scowling for several moments, it clicked, and she began to play.
As she began, Stephanie realised that her fingers weren't moving as smoothly or as fluidly as she would have liked them to. That some of her key presses were too hard, making it sound not quite right to her.
Once she had played the piece, she played it again, determined to get it right.
The more frustrated she got, the worse it started to sound to herself, and halfway through the fourth playthrough, she began to realise what the issue was.
If you spend most nights punching people in the face, you can't expect your hands to maintain the ability to be delicate instruments.
It was fine. She was used to not being perfect at this stage.
Finishing the fourth playthrough of Chopin's Nocturne Op.15 Number 3 in G minor, she hung her head, dropped her hands into her lap and let out a slow sigh.
At least the urge to play wouldn't hit for, ever. She was awful.
Stephanie damn near jumped out of her skin when there was polite applause from behind her, yelping as she whipped around to find Alfred Pennyworth smiling at her.

“Miss Stephanie, that was beautiful. I didn't know you could play!”

Frowning in confusion, she got to her feet, tucked the stool back into place and shook her head.

“I can't. That was terrible. I used to be so much better, back before I stopped taking lessons.”

“Nonsense! If that is you playing terribly, then I'm the queen of England.”

Snorting at the mental image of Alfred in the high necked Victorian era gowns and powdered wigs, she shook her head slightly.

“Just don't make a big thing out of it, please…”

Alfred offers a half smile.

“On one condition. You play more often.”

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

[ This blog post is private ]

01/10/2019 08:08 PM 

Crime Doesn't Pay: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Crime Doesn't Paywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Crouched low, breathing steady, the night vision lenses of her cowl active, Batgirl counted the numbers in the warehouse where she was hidden silently.
Twelve gang members. All with half masks or bandanas covering their faces. Only two of them armed with anything more than a blade or bat.
A new forming gang.
They must have been stupid.

“Alright boys, listen up, listen up. Tonight, we're gonna get the rest of you some heat. Then we're gonna start the real work on these streets.”

He sounded young. Not much older than her. Early twenties, maybe? She almost felt bad for what she was about to do to them. But it was better her than The Big Bad Bat, really.

‘Or was it?’

She mused as she flung a batarang (just a standard one, how boring) at the table in front of the 'leader’, already moving, sticking to the shadows, deactivating night vision on the go.

'At least if it was Batman, it would be, you know, Batman kicking the crap out of them, not a tiny blonde thing. Bah. They'll probably tell who ever it was Bats anyway…’

Steph would shrug to herself, a slight grin at the mental image at the thought. However, the batarang did what she wanted. They were spooked.

“Who's there?!”

Unable to help herself, she let out a laugh, continuing her movement.

“Did you really just ask that? With the Batarang right there?! In Gotham?! At NIGHT?! You poor sweet summer children…”

As she spoke, she kept on the move, her obviously feminine voice having them less on edge than they were, yet still spooked.

“Come out and fight like a man, you bat bitch coward!”

The one nearest to her yells, into the darkness about six feet to her left. Slowly, she grins, coils her legs under herself from her current perch on the shelving, and pounces, driving her knees into his chest, her hand on his head, forcing it into the floor.
Vicious? Perhaps. But she was here to teach a valuable lesson, and even with that concussion, he wasn't likely to forget tonight's schooling. Stepping aside and giving her warmest smile, as opposed to a Batglare, she sat her hands on her hips.

“If you insist… Gentlemen, my name is Batgirl. I'm here to remind you that in Gotham, we do things a certain way. Shall we begin?”

One of the ones she noted was armed pointed at her, reaching for his gun.

“She's like, a hundred pounds, and we out number her, ten to one! Get her!”

The rush began. Knives thrusting towards her chest, baseball bats swinging in every direction.

“Those odds hardly seem fair. For you.”

She grinned, ducking the first bat to come for her head, catching the wrist holding the blade, striking the elbow, while twisting back on the hand, kicking the knife away.
Frankly, it was unfair, with how trained she was, and how unskilled they were. She had to admire their dedication though. Weaving through them, it might as well have been the lowest setting on the training simulations back in the Batcave.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Steph found that she had begun toying with them. Letting them get body blows in, only to hit back harder across the face. One with a broken nose came back for more. She liked his moxy. She wasn't sure when she started using moxy. But here she was.
There was a click, as something pressed against the back of her head. She had been toying with them too much, and not paying attention. Eyes quickly darting around, she noted that the two she pegged as armed with guns weren't on the floor around her.
Letting out a sigh, she slumped her shoulders slightly, and slowly turned in place, so the barrel was against her forehead. It was shaking.

“Stop right there Batgirl. I'll shoot. I will.”

His voice was younger than the others. But similar. A brother? That would explain why he was also armed when the others weren't.
Keeping a neutral expression, she blinked once, examining his face. His dark eyes were terrified. Shooting a look over to the other armed one, who hadn't left the table (some leader he was), his hand on his gun, watching intently, Steph knew what she was going to do.

“Big Brother pulled you into this mess, huh? You really wanna end up Bat fodder when you could be home? In bed? Not getting hospitalized?”

Little Brother looks back at Big Brother, shakes his head, pulls off his half mask and shoves the gun into Steph's hands.

“I didn't wanna be here at all…”

Big brother puffs up indignantly, slamming his fist into the table.

“Eric! You're meant to have my back!”

Shuffling off towards the door, stepping around the bodies of the beaten and broken, Eric left, Steph dismantled the gun, throwing it in opposite directions.

“Good call, Eric. Get home, and call the GCPD. And you…”

She turned her attention to Big Brother, with a grin.

“We have some things to talk about, don't we bud?”

He, however, disagreed, and took off like a shot, taking his gun, down the hall, further into the dark warehouse. Steph sighed slightly, rolling her eyes, and went out the window, following on roof, activating her heat vision lenses in her cowl. Once he had stopped moving in, in a loading dock, and was spinning around in place, obviously looking for her. Slipping in through a long busted window, and returning to regular vision, she caught the last part of a rant.

“-creepy f***ing bats just lurking around in the damn dark!”

Unable to help herself, she crawled along the top of a rafter, starting her talk and relocate routine again.

“Have you idiots ever considered meeting in well lit places during the day then? Maybe we wouldn't be a factor then. Just putting it out there.”

Apparently, Big Brother wasn't playing around. He fired three shots in the directions her voice came from. All missed her, just. One clipped a fire extinguisher, filling the area with a growing cloud of whirling, thick fog like obstructive gas.

“Whoops… maybe you should watch where you're shooting, Tex. You are keeping track of your shots, right? Because I am… three more. Make them count…”

She should just end it. Here and now. But if this punk was stupid enough to try to start a gang, in Gotham she needed him to understand what that meant.
Darting across the floor now, causing the cloud to swirl around her, she dropped down into a baseball side, under the long forgotten truck, as another shot fired off behind her, ricocheting off the floor somewhere, lost.

“Ooh, unlucky. Two more…”

Was it bad that she was enjoying herself? Probably a little. She could practically hear Batman in her ear, telling her to end it already.
Crawling silently up on top of the truck, she did something, frankly, bordering on cruel and unusual punishment territory. She flung a gooparang at his feet, and ran along the top of the truck, vanishing down the back behind him, as he fired at her.
Her beloved green goop detonated from its pods, encasing his legs from the knees down, trapping him in place.

“And then there was one!”

She called from somewhere behind him. He did with the shot what she thought he might. Try to shoot at the goop. It did nothing.
Steph thought about immediately pouncing on him. But watching him strain his eyes and ears to try to find her, jumping at every little sound, the cars on the freeway in the distance, the rats in the walls, kinda amused her.
She had some problems she needed to work out. She knew.
After five minutes, she had crept up behind him, and lightly tapped his shoulder.

“So, what did we learn here tonight?”

He screamed. Of course he did. It took everything she had to not laugh.

“That crime doesn't pay. Please. Miss Bat. Batgirl please don't hurt me. Please…”

Circling to his front, she raised a brow, not that he could see it under her cowl.

“Oh, honey. Don't worry. You won't feel a thing…”

He looked like he was about to start thanking her, when she grabbed the back of his head and drove him, skull first into her knee, which she swung upward with just as much force.
She lied. He'd feel it when he woke up.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

12/30/2018 10:10 PM 

Freudian Slip: Drabble

attention: | mentions:Freudian Slipwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
“So, Stephanie, how do you feel?”

A simple enough question, really, the answer should be easy, right?
She was a pretty, blonde, college kid, life was easy, right?
If that were the case, she wouldn't be sitting here, being watched like a hawk by the therapist Leslie- sorry, Doctor Thompkins, basically ordered her to go see.
So. How did she feel?
Letting out a sigh, she shifted in her seat, pushed up her sleeves, fresh war wounds from a not so clean fought fight still healing on her forearms, her skin having been torn away in patches, no longer needing the dressings, so she didn't bother with them, and raised both her brows, rotating her arms at the elbows slowly, holding them out.

“Do you mean physically, or emotionally, Doc?”

She watched the quick flicker of shock pass over the therapist, Doctor Greene's face, before she had it back under control, pursing her lips slightly.

“Doctor Thompkins warned me you would be reluctant. She also warned me that you might try to shock me. She cares about you, Stephanie.”

Leaning back in the seat, Steph folded her arms, and legs, lowering her chin slightly, resisting the urge to puff out her cheeks in annoyance.

“She tell you anything else about me…?”

The pout was definitely coming though in her voice, though, and Doctor Greene smiled lightly at it, swiveling in her chair behind her desk, setting down her notepad.

“She told me you had secrets. I'm good with secrets, you know.”

How condescending. Steph rolled her eyes and groaned, unfolding her arms and letting her hands fall against the cushion either side of her thighs with a dull thud.

“No, really, I am. You couldn't get me to tell you anything if you tried.”

“I dunno, I used to think that too. Then I was tortured for two days.”

Steph wasn't sure why she said it. It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and she wasn't sure what was worse, the hollow voice she said it in, or knowing that she would probably break under torture again if it happened. It took her a second to realize she was staring right at Doctor Greene while she was dwelling on those thoughts, who looked genuinely concerned.

“...I hope that's a very dark joke, Stephanie…”

Setting her jaw, in a fashion familiar to her, but not usually something done by her, she shakes her head slightly.


“Would you like to talk about it…?”

Stephanie let out a harsh, barking laugh, making the doctor jump, she hadn't been expecting it.

“Absolutely not.”

Taking up the pad again, and scribbling away, Greene asks

“Well, what about home life then. How is that?”

She was trying. Trying hard. Steph had to give her some credit there, at least. She’d throw her this bone.

“Home life? My father is a two bit criminal who has been in and out of Blackgate my whole life, and my mother is a nurse who up until about two years ago was high on about anything she could smuggle out of the hospital. This is Gotham. How do you think my home life is. I grew up around crooks and no-goodniks. Hell. My father has used me as part of his stupid schemes before. He tried to use me as insurance to make sure the Bat would be his heavy.”
“My dad, oooh, he's a real piece of work… he's tried to kill me, you know? He's my arch nemesis”

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
“He threw me off a roof, he left me with one of his buddies for a week while he was trying to take mom to rehab, and that guy tried to f***ing rape me, I couldn't be anywhere near adult men for… I can't even remember how long after that. Sure, he killed the guy but that doesn't make up for it, that just makes him a murderer, and a sh*tty father.”

She stopped pacing to run her hands through her hair, holding it back for the big one. The kicker.

“He made a bunch of kids in my collage into criminal meta humans to be villains to fight me, to lure me to his prison so he could POISON ME WITH ALIEN SPORES AND PUT ME IN A COMA!

Her voice continues to rise, and she motions with her hands like her mind was exploding, whipping around to look at Doctor Greene, who sat, pen in hand, dumbfounded. Blinking slowly, she sat the pad down again, formed a tent with her hands, and rested her chin on them.

”...huh… I think I understand what Leslie meant by secrets now… ok… you're one of them.”

Taking several, long, slow, deep breaths, Steph slowly sat down, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

“Yeah. And I really don’t wanna talk about anything that happens. I shouldn't have said anything about my dad. He just…”

She lets out a low growl, and Greene nods.

“I can see why. It's a lot to go through. You're still so young, to have dealt with that much already, as well as what I'm sure you see during the night job.”

Stephanie says nothing, simply nodding.
Sometimes it was hard. She knew the others didn't think she took it as seriously as they did because she wasn't grimdark broody faces like they were. But if she had to deal with going back home, the job, and her own crippling self esteem issues by being the way they were, by not having fun with things, by being stone faced, she would go LITERALLY INSANE.
Realizing she was still being watched, she expressed exactly that thought.

“I appreciate the concern, I know Leslie cares. She took me away after I died to recover after all. Oh, yeah, I died. It was from the torture. No, I'm not going to talk about it. But talking things out? Expressing my feelings? That's just not what I do. I cope by punching faces. And yelling about how sh*tty my dad is.”

“And awful, poorly timed jokes…”

Greene notes, Steph nods, admitting defeat on that one.

“I think time's up, Doc… and no, I won't be back…”

She says, quite firmly, getting to her feet again, Doctor Greene rising too.

“I didn't think you would be, Stephanie. Take care out there.”

Steph was walked to the door.
She lied, however.
She was back, later that night, in her suit.
She took the damn notepad, and deleted the digital client file.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

12/23/2018 10:37 PM 

Poker Face: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Barbara Gordon, Batman, Nicholas Gage, Commissioner GordonPoker Facewww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Steph sat, legs curled under her, at the massive monitor of the Batcomputer, idly reading case files, listening to the GCPD police band, and any chatter over comms between Batfamily members.
She hadn't been out in the field for a while now, injuries keeping her on the shelf, and while they were perfectly fine without Batgirl, Stephanie was not.
She was going crazy.
Half way through reading the file on the Riddler, adding her own notes about trying to get guests to drink lighter fluid with a stupid riddle in his home that could be solved by literally just sniffing the glasses, so sometimes he's not the best at the whole riddle thing, her phone buzzed against her leg.
Frowning slightly, she pulled it from her pocket, and swiped the screen to life, looking at the text on her screen.

Babs: Hey, remember how you used my phone to call Detective Gage for that favor over Halloween?

She rapidly responded with a flurry of her thumbs, idly wondering why she didn't just speak, as they were both on comms, she could see Oracles line as active.

Me: yeah, I remember. Why?

It wasn't long for her reply to come. Steph watched the screen, waiting for it to come in.

Babs: he called me just before, asking if I had seen Batgirl recently, then asked how I knew her, and if I had any way to get in contact with her, because he had something that might interest you, based on the thing you asked him about? And that he'd be by the Bat Signal every night this week if Batgirl could make an appearance. You aren't going to go, right?

Ah, the reason she didn't just speak. This was trouble. With a capital T, and Barbara was trying to cover for Steph. That was nice. Typing again, she fired back a response.

Me: nah, I'm gonna go. I’m gonna go right now. It might be useful stuff. Maybe he just wants to make sure I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere. Shouldn't take long. I won't even get in any fights.

She stood, not bothering to close what she was doing on the computer, and moved to suit up.
She did so gingerly, her shoulder still a problem, she was serious about not getting in any fights, and minimal grappling.
Suited, the familiar, and frankly comforting weight of the cape on her shoulders, around her legs, she felt whole again. She felt right. Pulling the cowl down over her waves, she, for a moment, considered braiding her hair, or something, as she hadn't been out for a while, and didn't want an added distraction, but quickly reminded herself that this wasn't a patrol. This was a quick outing to meet with the Detective, then get back in before the inevitable lecture from the Bat.
Before her stashing her phone in one of her belt pockets, she noticed she had gotten a response from Babs while changing.

Babs: I’ll keep eyes on. If you need help, I’ll send in Jason first.

Steph liked that Babs was willing to cover for her like this, but she decided to save everyone else some trouble and sent two quick texts while she was moving towards Ricochet, her bullet like closed in motorcycle. One to Babs, and one to Bruce.
To Babs she sent:

Me: I'm flattered, but don’t worry about it. I’ll take this one.

To Bruce, knowing he was unlikely to check anything for hours and she would be safe from lectures for a little while, she sent:

Me: heading out for a quick intel gathering round from the GCPD. No fights, promise!

Then she hit the road.
She had missed this too. The feeling of freedom the bike gave her, as she tore along the laneways down from Wayne Manor towards Gotham City, cutting through the many shortcuts and hidden access ways she had gotten to know in her time as a vigilante.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Batgirl didn't stop until she reached her apartment in the Narrows. She wasn't going to arrive at the police station on the noisy as hell, bright purple bike, thank you very much. She was going to stash it here for now, and make her appearance there silently, scoping it out first.
It wouldn't the first time the GCPD had tried to lure her in to try to arrest her, after all, so you can never be too careful.
Arming the Ricochets security system, and throwing a drop cloth over it that she kept on her fire escape, she climbed to her roof, before reminding herself that she would have to grapple right handed, when she normally did her swinging and grappling left handed, squinting slightly at herself, before taking a running jump to the next rooftop, beginning her approach.
Getting low when she was a rooftop away, activating her heat vision lenses in the cowl, she saw only two figures on the GCPD roof, and one was clearly smoking. Gage, and Commissioner Gordon.
Scowling, she made her way around to a building behind theirs, going out of her way to be unseen for as long as possible, slipping up to them, coming around the Bat Signal.

“I heard you boys were looking for me?”

She quips brightly, Gage damn near jumping out of his skin, Gordon unphased by the sudden appearance of a bat, having had to deal with it for years.

“Holy crap. Do all of you do that?”

“You get used to it, Detective.”

Gordon grumbles, nonplussed by the whole thing. Batgirl nods, hands on hips.

“What can I do for you? It must be urgent if you're actively looking for me…”

Nicolas Gage gives her a once over, as if looking for some sort of explanation as to why she has been M.I.A since before Halloween, taking the file from under his arm and holding it out to her.

“You asked me to keep an eye on the gangs. Well, while I was doing that, I found some good leads on Black Mask and his location. I thought that might interest you.”

He looked at her pointedly, while she frowned and flicked through the file. It was, indeed, fresh leads on Black Mask. They didn't interest her, however. They made her uncomfortable. Then she narrowed her eyes as she realised that she never mentioned anything about Black Mask. Closing the file, and returning her face to as neutral an expression she could manage, she held it back out to him.

“Why would Black Mask and his location interest me, Detective?”

“I couldn't help but notice, that there was once a blonde Robin, that used to be a little purple wearing vigilante, then she was ‘killed' by that animal Sionis. You happen to be a blonde, purple wearing vigilante.”

Steph's pulse spiked. Oracles voice crackled in her ear.

“Batgirl, are you ok? Your readings just went through the roof.”

Instead of answering her, doing her best Batman impression, her face expressionless, even if she was beginning to internally panic, Steph addressed Nick, looking between him and Commissioner Gordon.

“He is aware there's a grave, and an autopsy, right? And literally millions of people are blonde.”

Nick raise a finger to point at her.

“See, that's what I thought too. But then I remembered I ran into Stephanie Brown, the girl who was Robin, and Spoiler, in her professor's office once. She was looking mighty sprightly for someone who was meant to be dead for three years. And yes. I confirmed it was the same Stephanie Brown with enrollment records. That professor is conveniently the same woman, the only woman, I talked to about getting you to come here. So spill it, Stephanie.” He seemed so victorious. So triumphant. And she hated her father even more for his stupid report on her being killed. She decided she was going to stick with playing dumb. There had to be a reason Gordon was up here too, after all.

“I really hope you're a better detective than that, Gage. Why would Stephanie Brown ever put on a mask again after that crap? She'd have to be either insane, stupid or some mess of both, wouldn't she? If I were you, I wouldn't go around telling people that a criminal's daughter is Batgirl when she isn't. You're gonna get people killed. And you best believe I'm gonna be telling the Bat all about it. He likes to make sure no one messes with his Robins. Are you messing with his Robins, Nick?”

She cocked her head slightly, Gordon smiling faintly, catching her drift, and deciding to throw something on the fire with it.

“I don’t think we have good enough protective custody to keep Batman from getting his hands on you if he wanted to. The poor girls been through enough, don’t you think? You might owe two young women apologies.”

The mention of people getting hurt or killed, and the big, bat shaped consequences caused Nicholas Gage to pale slightly, and he nodded slowly.

“You know, I don’t want anyone's blood on my hands… forget I said anything. I’m gonna just…”

He trailed off, taking himself back down into the station, leaving Steph with the file in hand. Once he was out of sight, she sunk to a crouch, covering her face with her hands, letting out a long slow groan, not minding that the Commissioner was still there. After a moment, she slowly straightened up, and he moved over to pat her shoulder.

“That was a close one, but that was some quick thinking on your part.”

Nodding slowly, she let out a nervous laugh, before it turned into a strangled sort of whine.

“I’d ask how long you've known, but I'm not sure I wanna know… that was too close. I need to go lay down or something. I think I about had a heart attack…”

“You've got a good poker face, kid. I’ll give you that. You looked cool as a cucumber. I was doubting for a second.

Rubbing her hands over her face again, she shook her head, in disbelief, laughing again. There wasn't anything else she could do.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

11/11/2018 04:15 PM 

Bat Takes Flight: Drabble

attention: | mentions: Bat Takes Flightwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
Pat. Pat. Patpatpatpatpat.
She ran, and jumped straight off the roof.
No pause, no hesitation in her stride.
The rush of adrenaline as she plummeted two, six, ten storeys was one of her favorite feelings in the world. The sharp intake of breath, the blood pumping in her ears, more awake than any amount of coffee could ever make her, she gave it a three count, drew her grapple gun, as she continued to fly headfirst towards certain death, and with measured, well practiced coolness, aimed a shot at one of the stoic guardians of Gotham, one of hundreds of gargoyles perched around the city, keeping watch.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
Finding her mark, she adjusted her grip, and braced herself for it. The twang of the line going taut.
If unprepared, it could easily rip a girls arm right out of its socket.
She should know. It's happened before. And it /sucked/
Swinging her legs around as the line was starting to go taut, she swung herself towards her chosen destination, strategic freefalling, rooftop running and yet more dives to reach it.
She had gotten better. She didn't whoop and cheer as she swung through the night anymore, even if she still felt the same joy.
It was good to be Batgirl.
"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

10/04/2018 12:20 PM 

Born on a Monday

attention: | mentions: Born on a Mondaywww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight
How? How was this happening to her? Why now ?
Of course she was the only one on hand when Solomon Grundy decided to start causing chaos.
Bats was out, big bad Justice League business, above her pay grade. Robin and Red Robin we're doing some Titans thing. Thanks for the invite, boys. Nightwing had more than enough on his plate in Bludhaven, and Black Bat was off being a total badass somewhere else. Probably involving stabbing Shiva.
That left her.
Little ol’ Stephanie Brown.
She talked a lot of sh*t, and often backed it up. She fought a lot of things she probably shouldn’t have, but this call out genuinely made her worried.
She didn’t really have the luxury to think about that though, because she was already en route.

“Now you have to stay focused, Steph. If he gets his hands on you you're-”

“Yeah, I’m as dead as he is. I know, O. Stop reminding me. It doesn’t help. We both know you’d rather it be anyone but me out here for this but we drew a sh*tty hand tonight… now please. Let me focus.”

She scowled, her hands gripping at the handlebars of the Ricochet, resenting how much she sounded like Him just then, but the sentiment remained.
She needed to be fast. Smart.
Gritting her teeth, Stephanie caught sight of the wreckage of what was East End. Grundy had hit it like a hurricane. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Oracle, are there GCPD in the area?”

The clicking of a rapid search came over the comms, then her response, “Yes,but they’re pinned down in the library, trying to help keep people safe. They can’t help you.”

Steph normally didn’t tut. That was normally a Damian thing. She tutted.

“I wanted them to get people out, so I don’t have to worry about that too. Tell them to start evacuating on my signal…”

“Wait, what will the signal be?”

“They’ll know it when they see it…”

She mutters, and floors it, heading for the Gotham Library.
She could hear him, roaring, tearing up street lamps.
Oh god she hoped this worked.
Lining up the hulking, grey frame on the sidewalk, she pressed a few buttons on her console, then released her grip on the handle bars.


Batgirl was launched out the top of the vehicle, as it continued at top speed, slamming into the back of Grundy, spinning away, sparking on the asphalt.


Turning to find what hit him, he spotted the blonde bat, making a three point landing from her hasty ejection, her eyes on Solomon. The comms crackle.

“That was your signal?”

“Part of it… yep..”

She mutters, then throws one of her electro-rangs at Grundy, finding her mark as it sunk easily into his rotting flesh, jolting him. Normally, it would have dropped a person, like being hit with a taser, but all it seemed to do was make him mad.

"Everything doesn't have to be about fear. There's room in our line of work for hope, too."
She took off at a dead sprint, across the plaza, away from the library.
Behind her she heard him start after her, along with the dragging and scraping of something heavy.


Whatever it was, he just threw it at her. She couldn’t risk glancing back.
Taking out her grappling gun, aimed, fired, and started towards a building across the plaza.
The Ricochet crashed down on the line as she was mid-take off, Grundy's long range depth perception either terrible, or much better than she expected, cutting her off hard, jerking her heavily into her bike, knocking the wind out of her sails, only just managing to roll aside, to not be pinned beneath it as they both bounced to the ground.

“You’ve got his attention. Now what?”

Oracle asked, somewhat wearily, as Steph groaned slightly, rolling away, trying to regain momentum, feeling the heavy footfalls as he closed in.

“That was the signal… they better be moving…”

She pushed herself up off the ground, and started towards the nearest inclosed building.

“They are… but who is going get you out of there when this goes south?”

She vaulted though the window, feeling fingers brushing her cape, twisting and slamming the pane shut on the offending arm, taking a minute to look around her surroundings.
A tiny, ten seater coffee shop.
Yeah, no. Last stand worthy this was not.


Gotta move…
Steph scrambled over the counter and out the back door, to the horrendous sound of the front of the building being bulldozed by the revenant, trying to make good on his word. The back of the coffee shop lead to an alleyway, feeding down between the back of office buildings, with trash, dumpsters, fire escapes, and back entrances, and locked gates. basically a bullpen. Or a dead end, if played wrong.

“Steph! I’ve got Nightwing flying in to help you out, if you can just hold out until he gets there.”

“Sure, because I was just taking it easy this whole time….”

She would have rolled her eyes, but she was too busy using them to scope out the alleyway, looking for ways in which to maybe get an upper hand, maybe only come away mauled, only maimed, not murdered.
The only real answer she kept rolling back around to were the fire escapes, and dumpsters. She’d have to plan on the fly.
Keep Grundy in this alley, with her, until D*ck got here. No big deal. Then the two of them could die together.
No, that kind of thought was gonna help. She fiddled with a set of buttons, the remote call for Ricochet, on her belt as she ran to the middle of the alleyway, hoping it still worked, turning to face the advancing Grundy, drawing her collapsible bo staff.

“Alright, Brain Dead Fred, come get some!”

Taking up a defensive stance, the Batgirl waited as Solomon Grundy barreled down on her. She knew hitting him would only wear her out. It would be best with energy conservation in mind. Especially since her vehicle in scuffed and thrown around armor seemed like it wasn’t capable of coming to her rescue.
That was fine. Better to know now then if she needed it.
With Grundy swinging wildly at her, trying to swat her like an annoying gnat, she circled around him, ducking, dodging and weaving like her life depended on it. Because frankly, it did.
She propelled herself from the ground onto a dumpster using the staff as a pole vault, taking a running leap across the chained shut lid at the fire escape ten feet away.


Instead of swinging for her, Grundy knocked grabbed the fire escape, and pulled, leaving half the metalwork hanging loose, and another five feet away.

“Stop being so slow then, Rotbrains.”

Skidding to a stop, dangerously close to his grasp, she tried to reposition, ready to begin her defensive dance again, starting to wonder how far out Nightwing could be now.
Unfortunately, Grundy may have been dead, but he wasn’t as stupid as Steph has hoped. He started circling her now too.
Once they had switched sides in the alleyway, without breaking eye contact with her, he dragged the dumpster that was just used as a launch pad into the middle of the thoroughfare, cutting her directional movement in half, unless she vaulted again. While theoretically not a problem, it wasn’t a whole lot of distance between them for her to have her back to him comfortably.


She hisses, taking a half step back, running a quick inventory on what she had on her. Some smoke pellets, bo staff, magna-rangs, goopa-rangs, shock-rangs. She ditched her grapple before when she ate a face full of pavement before, which, was undoubtedly going to leave a mark.


Not likely. Not today.
Shifting her weight she got low, ready to start moving one way or the other.
It was a standoff, between the walking dead, and a dead man walking. Which was which? Who knew.
Grundy lunged.
Steph went to the left, slipping under his arm. She was faster. She was faster. She was thro-no.
She had a cape. And now Grundy had her cape.
Before she could reach up to hit the safety release on the cape, she had been jerked backwards, off her feet, and straight into the brick wall, like a ragdoll.
Everything went white, as she lost all her air.
Sinking down the wall, as the ringing started fading from her ears, her realised she could hear laughter. Grundy was laughing at her.
Struggling to push herself up, Stephanie let out a weak gurgle, then shook her head, trying again. Her mouth tasted like metal.
Ok, new plan. Getting up wasn’t going to happen. C’mon Steph. Think.
Grundy was looming over her now, a crooked grin on his stinking face, she looked up at him, up. Up. The fire escape. Hanging loose, rockng from the force of her hitting the wall.

Both fists, poised ready to slam down on her almost immobile body, Steph flung all her batarangs skyward with a yelp of pain, falling to her side.


She coughed slightly, blood splattering the concrete before her.

“Wasn’t aiming for Grundy….”


That was her queue. She rolled away, under the dumpster, as the force of the good dozen specialised batarang pods explosively discharged, knocking the precarious mass of metal loose, falling onto Grundy.
Stephanie wasn’t sure if she could hear the hum of a jet overhead, or if she was imagining hearing Oracle yelling at her to stay awake.
But everything went black.

"I'm almost fifty percent sure nothing could go wrong."Stephanie Brownwww.roleplayer.me/DorkKnight

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